


Tradition

by darcymariaphoster



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, Fluff, Humour, M/M, Red Pants, i wrote this in about forty minutes, idek what this is, it's so short, maybe in the new year, new year's, they're not quite together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 16:34:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3074516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darcymariaphoster/pseuds/darcymariaphoster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock indulges John in a tradition of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a note submitted to fuckyeahteenlock@tumblr: "Hello lovelies, I recently heard of something that I just felt had to be shared with the wider Sherlock fandom: I'm learning Italian at uni (trying to anyway) and we just did a lesson an Italian X-mas and NY traditions and here is the thing: did you know that according to Italian lore it supposedly brings good luck wear red underwear on New Years Eve??? Apparently that's a real thing!! To me that sounds like it needs a fanfic... happy early new year everyone ;)"
> 
> I wrote it really fast because I have work in the morning so I don't get to stay up very late (also, I kept getting pressured to get off the computer). Please leave thoughts if you feel so inclined.
> 
> Happy New Year to all!!

There are a select few things that John is  _really_ aware of and a vast majority concerns Sherlock; the rest consist of rugby and cats. Mostly Sherlock. He notices when they pass in the hall; he notices when Sherlock is even a  _minute_ late during that passing; he notices what Sherlock decides to wear every day and what mood he's in based on the colours; he notices what time it is by the fact that Sherlock is fleeing toward the ballroom for practice. Some days, he wonders if he should be more concerned by the idea that he notices all these things. And then he forgets to care. 

But he thinks that the most important thing he's ever noticed about Sherlock is on New Year's Eve. All the school's clubs got together to celebrate the end of the year and to catch up before school started again. John had made a new goal to make more friends in the new year and he decided to start a bit early, meandering around the groups of people in the main living area in the head coach's house. He's noticed where Sherlock is all through the night, much to his own annoyance. ( _Really,_ he shouldn't be that relevant!) 

He's just finished chatting with a few of the lacrosse members and is starting to wander away when he  _notices_. It's almost so fast, he doesn't think anything of it. But he knows what he saw and it's in his head and it won't leave so he looks again. Sherlock is standing by the kitchen, his back to John, and his trousers are falling just a little past his hips. And, Lord, John almost has a heart-attack at seventeen years old. Just a  _little_ bit of red is showing above the black of his normally well-fitting trousers.  _Red_ of all the colours. It couldn't have been that deep green to match his button-up? White, like normal people? Black to blend with his trousers or jacket?  _  
_

Someone bumps into him and he snaps to, trying to ignore the flare of a blush on his face. He should tell him to pull his pants up. Because he doubts that anyone else will and he'd be embarrassed if no one told him his underwear was showing. Right? Nervously, he wanders over to the boy, tapping him on his shoulder. And he almost tries to run. Everyone who ever attempts to talk to him, all his friends, say that he's good-looking and he can smooth-talk anyone. But never Sherlock. He's never tried to talk to Sherlock before.

Feeling a bit tongue-tied as Sherlock looks at him with his cold, analyzing blue eyes, John tries to tell him that his trousers are falling and ends up mumbling, "Your red is showing."

Oh God. Oh dear Lord. Take pity on him. Make him vanish into thin air right now. He feels his blush move up his neck and across his ears and he feels like he might overheat. Before Sherlock can answer, he beelines for the back door and slips quietly outside into the frigid air. It's cold enough that it almost hurts to breathe. Or maybe he just hasn't remembered how to breathe yet. In any case, he now feels more than stupid and extremely embarrassed. He hides his face in his hands and tries to calm down again.

"Do you even realise how stupid that sounded coming from  _your_ mouth?" a voice drawls behind him and he knows that voice because he's  _noticed_ it before, heard it in conversation between its owner and numerous people in the halls. Sherlock.  John dares to turn slightly to look at him sheepishly, if not defensively.  "I mean, do you  _own_ any other colour pants besides red?"

Literally, any smart thing that John could say vanishes from his head and all he can manage is, "What?"

A smirk graces Sherlock's features, something that has never been directed at John but has made him swoon on several different occasions. "I notice things, John, and particularly about you. When your rugby practices run long and you're too tired to care, your uniform tends to sag some and you're always wearing red..."

"It's for luck," John blurts, brain still reeling from the words from this beautiful boy's lips. "I mean, I only wear red for the practices and games for that reason..." Why is he even still talking?

"Yes, well, it's luck that I wear red pants on New Year's. A tradition," Sherlock purrs and his eyes never leave John's burning face. Their first conversation and it's about red pants. Pants in general, but still. The whole thing seems ridiculous. "Do you like them?"

John blinks stupidly and replies, "Well, I can't really see them, now can I?" They both pause at that and John snorts, believing that he's never been this embarrassed in his life. "Do they work? For luck, I mean."

An actual smile is on Sherlock's lips now, something he's  _never_ seen. "You're talking to me, so they must be." John can't think of anything to say to that. "Can we, maybe, go inside to finish this conversation? It's just a tad bit nippy out..."

"Just a bit, yeah," John agrees and moves to follow Sherlock inside. He can't believe this has happened, is happening. What is even going on? He follows the taller boy inside and is led to a secluded corner in the kitchen. "You did that on purpose," he accuses when they stop, startled by the realization. Sherlock also seems startled. "Your pants. Showing."

Sherlock only smiles serenely and says, "Your observation skills are _outstanding_ , Watson." 


End file.
